Future Imperfect
by Zapwing
Summary: When Jack is flung into strange and unfamiliar territory, he finds his only hope for survival lies in a rag-tag group of misfits...and a familiar face. Rated for violence, language and some dark themes. Constructive feedback is appreciated.
1. Future Imperfect

**...**

**Future Imperfect**

**...**

"...Left...okay, now ease up on the brakes a little bit...Good,good..."

The car responded, taking the left turn at the intersection, and then cruising down the road a little below the speed limit. Miko let out a slow breath. "How am I doing?"

"So far? Pretty good for your first time...okay, now turn right here..."

It was a sunny Saturday morning in Jasper, Nevada; for once, the ever present fireball that was the sun had toned down somewhat, and a cool breeze was blowing. Perfect conditions for a drive around town.

Jack watched closely, as Miko tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Her face was set in a grim glare of concentration as she maneuvered the white sedan down the mercifully empty street. The vehicle was making relatively slow progress, but Jack wasn't complaining; the slower it was the safer. And besides, how else was he supposed to teach Miko how to drive?

"Okay, brakes..." The sedan slowed to a halt at a red light and Jack smiled as Miko let out a short breath of satisfaction. "Try not to be so tense about it," he said, "You have to think of the car as an extension of your own body."

Miko snorted. "Yeah, a body that has an engine and four freakin' wheels..."

"It's really not that hard...Umm...You know what? Let's just think of it as taking control of a...er," Jack fumbled for a second, before he sighed, "...what are those robots called again?"

Miko smirked. "Gundams...they're called Gundams."

"Yeah, those things. It's really not all that different when you think about it."

Miko rolled her eyes. "_Fine_, I'll try...By the way, you sure your mom's cool about letting me use her car for driving lessons?"

"Sure she is, don't worry about it...," said Jack, as he adjusted his seat belt. It wasn't due to road safety regulations that he wore the belt, but rather for the sake of today's lesson. It was _Miko _at the wheel, after all. "You wanna head back to base? Raf's gonna be back."

"He is? I thought he was at home boosting his grades."

"I guess he pulled some strings with his mom...I don't know...Hey, you want me to take the wheel?"

Miko sighed. "Yeah, sure..."

Jack and Miko unclipped their seatbelts, popped open the doors, and quickly exchanged seats. Miko being Miko, plopped herself into the passenger seat, and put her feet up on the dash, not caring that her boots might scuff the material. Jack shook his head at the sight, and buckled in. "You know, in some cultures, it's considered impolite to display the soles of your feet like that..."

Miko let out a derisive noise. "Screw that; I can put up my feet wherever I want, whenever I want..."

The traffic light switched to green, and Jack hit the accelerator. "You really think so? 'Cause last time I-"

_**SCREE-E-E-ECH!**_

"SON OF A BITCH!" screamed Miko as Jack suddenly hit the brakes, jerking the both of them forwards. Jack went wide-eyed from the shock, and had to take deep breaths to calm his jack-hammering heart. It was fortunate that the seat belts prevented Jack and Miko from being thrown head-first through the windshield. It was also fortunate that Jack had hit the brakes so fast, otherwise the sleek, black car would have totaled the sedan. A sleek black car with flame decos. Familiar?

Vince glared at the two out of his open window, his eyes narrowed in his usual arrogant glare. "The hell's wrong with you, Darby?!" he snarled, "What? You gone brain dead or something?"

Jack groaned; this was supposed to be a perfect day...

Miko rolled down the window, and stuck her head out, yelling, "Right of way, Vince! We were here first, so move your ass!"

Vince took one look at Miko and snorted in laughter. "You're with the Nakadai freak?! Christ, Darby, you must be desperate..."

"Oh, boy, he shouldn't have said that," muttered Jack, as Miko, her teeth bared in fury, quickly unclipped her seat belt. Jack, needless to say, began doing the same. The last thing he wanted was to have an all-out brawl in the middle of the street and have someone get a nosebleed. After all, it was just Jack's nature to make sure that nobody hurt themselves. And Miko? Well, Miko was just being Miko; maybe it was sheer courage that drove her, or maybe it was sheer stupidity...or maybe it was a bit of both, who knew?

Miko popped open her door, and before Jack knew it, she was marching down the street. "You want your ass kicked, asshole? Happy to oblige!"

Vince was laughing now. "Oh, this I gotta see. What're you gonna do? Go all samurai on me? What, you're gonna stuff my ass with spring rolls 'n' noodles?"

"Don't tempt me...," growled Miko, as she cracked her knuckles.

Jack jogged towards Miko and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Miko, let it go; he isn't worth it..."

"I'm not going anywhere! Not until I beat the shit out of him so bad, he won't even lay his ass down in that shitty car of his!"

Vince's smug grin turned into a glare. He could handle insults, yes, but not insults to his pride and joy. "You got a problem with my car, bitch?

"Yeah, maybe I do," growled Miko, "What's with that thing anyway? You overcompensating for something?"

"Shouldn't have said _that_ either," groaned Jack, as Vince threw open the car's door and stepped onto the tarmac. The red-headed delinquint had produced a steel tire iron from God-knows-where, and was slowly advacing towards the two.

"You know," he snarled, "A lot of people say it ain't right to beat the crap out of a girl...but I'm willing to make an exception..."

Miko narrowed her eyes. "Oh yeah?! Well...You're...You're a Republican!"

The sheer absurdity of the insult made Jack stop and stare at Miko. Even Vince paused and cocked his head to one side with a dumbfounded expression.

That was all Smokescreen needed. With a roar of his engine, the sports car rocketed down the same street Vince had been cruising earlier in a blur of blue and white. Vince, caught completely off guard, turned around rapidly, just in time to see the top of the line vehicle scrape off a good portion of paint and completely remove the driver's side door, which Vince had left open. Said door detached with a loud, painful screech, and landed a few feet away, causing Vince's jaw to drop open.

Smokescreen rolled down his window, and his holoform, a blond white male with his hair in a pony tail, gave a cheeky grin. "Whoopsies!" he tittered, in mock sincerity. "My bad! Sorry 'bout that, bro!"

And with that, he rolled up the window and drove off with a screech of rubber, leaving Vince to gape at the damage done to his precious car. "Whu...What the hell?...," he croaked, in a hoarse whisper.

Miko, on the other hand, was laughing. "Yea-ha-ha, fuck you too, buddy!"

Jack grabbed her arm. "Come on, Miko, time to go," he said, although he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Vince's car. To be honest, he felt somewhat guilty. But then again, seeing Vince's face was probably a teensy weensy bit satisfying.

_Probably._

The two quickly ran back to the white sedan, and threw open the doors. "See, this is why we keep you away from politics," said Jack, as he buckled in and gunned the accelerator.

"Hey, you can't blame me," shot back Miko, "And who says I can't back up the Obama Administration?! Democrats all the way, bitches!"

Jack simply rolled his eyes in response, but otherwise kep his eyes on the road. The sedan quickly took a left turn, and headed down the road leading out of Jasper, just in time for Smokescreen to draw up beside them. The sports car came closer, and Smokescreen's voice drifted through the sedan's radio. "Hello, ladies," he chortled, "And how are you today?"

"How am I?!" exclaimed Miko, "Hell, I feel awesome! Dang it, 'Screen, you kick ass!"

"I know," said the cocky young mech. "You okay, Jack?"

Jack shifted his grip on the steering wheel. "Well, he is a jerk...And Arcee might not be very happy about it..."

"But it was sooo worth it!" laughed Miko. "Did you see the look on his face?! That's what happens to douchebags like Vince! You get sucker punched by 'Screen!"

"Hopefully, not literally," mumbled Jack, as the familiar shape of Autobot Outpost Omega One came into view. As they drew closer, the concealed doors rumbled open, allowing them access to the entrance tunnel. Both vehicles shot through, and then entered the base's main hangar. Timing it just right, Jack hit the brakes, and the sedan came to a stop directly on top of the Autobot logo on the floor.

"Aww, you beat me to it," said Smokescreen, as he too drew to a halt. The sports car's frame vibrated for a second, before it exploded and rearranged itself into his bipedal form.

Ratchet, who was occupied with the Ground Bridge terminal looked up and grumbled under his breath. "Oh, it's you again..."

"In the alloy, Ratch, in the alloy," said the grinning Smokescreen.

"So," said Miko, as she hopped out, "What's it gonna be? _Borderlands_, or _Bulletstorm_?"

Jack shrugged, as he slammed the door closed. "Ehh...I dunno...Maybe _Battlefield_?"

"_Battlefield_ it is!" chirped Miko, as she scampered up the stairs towards their living area to fire up the PlayStation 3.

"Oh no," groaned Ratchet, as his optics fell upon the gaming console's start up screen. "I'm busy running calibrations on the Ground Bridge, and then you start playing those infernal videogames again! They'll be the end of me at this rate!"

"Hey, Ratch," greeted Jack, the better to distract the medic from Miko, "Where's Arcee?"

The medic harrumphed, and bent back down to his work. "She's out on patrol with the others...I expect she will return soon."

"Oh...okay..."

"Ooh, is that _Battlefield_?" said Smokescreen, leaning forward for a better look. "Looks pretty cool...So how do I play?"

Miko grinned. "Just grab the 'bot sized controller, and I'll teach you how! It's easy the longer you play..."

"Sweet!" grinned Smokescreen, as he flipped open the container, and untangled the wires around the specially re-sized PlayStation controller. "Hey, Jack, you want in on this?"

Jack smiled and rubbed the back of his head. "No thanks, Smoke; I'll just sit out the first round."

"Ehh...suit yourself..."

Jack sighed, as he flopped into the arm chair. Miko and Smokescreen were playing a split screen match, and the two had teamed up against a band of enemies. Jack watched, amused, as Miko demonstrated the use of the controller's various buttons and functions, as well as showing the young mech how to navigate the menus and options screens.

"No, not like that, like this..."

"Am I doing this right?"

"Yes! You're getting the hang of this pretty fast..."

Ratchet shook his helm and grumbled something under his breath, before detaching himself from the Ground Bridge controls and heading out of the main bay. "I'll be back with more tools," he said, "Don't. Touch. _Anything_."

Jack watched the medic leave, and then turned his attention back to the game. Miko and Smokescreen were in the process of tearing up the multiplayer match; there was the chattering of gunfire, followed by an explosion, followed by an enemy's agonised scream. Jack winced. "Crotch-shot, Miko? Really?"

"Hey, I'd do it in real life if I wanted to...," she replied.

Jack rolled his eyes, and was about to lecture Miko on the importance of videogame etiquette and decency, when his phone rang. Jack sighed, and drew out his cellphone. He flipped open the screen, and was surprised to find his mother's caller ID. Excusing himself, Jack jogged down the steps to the hangar floor, and hit the button. "Hey, mom, it's me..."

"Hi, Jack," said June's voice. In the background, Jack could discern the sounds of people and activity, as well as the beeps associated with a check out counter. "Listen, would you do me a favor? I've got some groceries that need picking up, and I was wonderng if you could bring the car over to the store..."

"Well...," said Jack, as his eyes drifted over to the sedan, and then to the Ground Bridge console. He smiled as he came to his conclusion, in a rare case of uncharacteristic laziness. "Actually, why don't we Bridge it home?"

He could sense his mother's hesitation, as she replied. "Oh...I don't know, Jack...I mean, what if Ratchet says something?"

"Hey, he's cool with it. I mean, it's not like Miko's fiddling around with it, right?"

"I heard that!" called the girl's voice. For good measure, a discarded magazine sailed over the railing, and clonked Jack on the head. He rubbed his head in mock pain.

"Just wheel the cart into the alley next to that drug store, mom. I'll take care of the rest..."

"Uhh...Okay...," said June. Jack could hear the clattering and squeaking of the shopping cart, as June navigated the contraption. "Are you sure about this?"

"Sure I am! I mean what could go wrong? It's fast, it's convenient, and hey, I could Bridge you back home if you want to..."

His mother gave a short laugh. "Well, carrying all this stuff would make me late..."

"Just give me a second, and I'll fire up the Bridge. I'll see you in a minute..." Jack disconnected the line, as he took the stairs two at a time. He passed the living area, where Miko and Smokescreen's pitched battle was reaching epic proportions, and woke up the human sized console; the screen saver winked off, replaced by a Ground Bridge control window. He input the necessary commands, and hit the icon for the Ground Bridge trigger. The green vortex sprang to life, and Jack hurried down the steps.

"Be right back, guys!" he called over his shoulder, as he drew closer to the Bridge.

That was when Ratchet entered the main bay. The medic's seemingly permanent scowl gave way to a rather feminine shriek when he saw the Brodge vortex, and the box of tools he'd been carrying hit the ground, scattering their contents across the floor.

"Jackson, NOOO! I haven't finished my calibrations!"

Jack paused, just a few feet short of the portal, and he faced the medic, a confused frown on his face. "What is it-"

And then the Bridge changed. Jack whipped around in alarm, and watched, transfixed, as the vortex spun faster and faster, kicking up a wind that blew Jack's hair and smacked across his face. The warm, emerald green color soon dimmed to a foreboding indigo, and electricity crackled at the edges of the portal like angry serpents. A loud humming sound filled the air, so loud, that Jack could do nothing but grit his teeth and clutch at his ears. He was dimly aware of Miko shouting something, and the sound of Ratchet yelling something about stabilization, but Jack was too focused on the malfunctioning Bridge to notice.

With a strained grunt, Jack attempted to move his feet. But it seemed the Bridge had other ideas; with a burst of light, the dark vortex suddenly enveloped Jack, plunging him into an inky blackness. He could feel himself being squeezed and stretched painfully from all sides, and he realized that he couldn't breathe. He was aware that that he was tumbling, being jostled about, and falling, falling, falling, and then his body erupted in pain as it impacted a hard surface, supplemented by a blow to his head that plunged him into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

**You know, A lot of the fanfiction I've been reading have used the Ground Bridge as a plot device. I guess this is no exception, then. **

**Let me know what you guys think of this. Constructive feedback is also appreciated.**

**-This is Zapwing, signing off.**


	2. Ashes

**...**

**Ashes**

**...**

Jack didn't know exactly how long he'd been out cold. It could have been a few minutes, maybe a few hours...or hell, it could have even been a few days. Nevertheless, he regained consciousness as well as receiving a mighty headache.

With a groan, he slowly opened his eyes, and the first thing he registered was the sky; a cloudy grey sky, the sort you'd expect at the onset of rainfall, with not even a peep of sunlight. Jack blinked, the better to clear the haze that seemed to have engulfed his head, and steadily sat up. As he did so, a cloud of dusty grey material slid off his chest and onto his lap, surprising the boy. He then realised that he was completely covered in this powdery cement-colored substance, from the hair on his head, to the toes of his sneakers. Jack frowned, and then began dusting himself; he must have been lying down here for a long time to have all this stuff settling down onto him.

And then he realised that the grey dust wasn't just on his own clothes and body; it was everywhere. It coated the ground, like a layer of soft powdery snow, and whenever he took a step, it billowed around for a while before settling down on whatever surface it chose. Jack coughed, as some of the powdery matter entered his mouth, and as he opened his eyes, he noticed the sheer desolation that surrounded him.

Jack was standing right in the middle of a front lawn, or rather, what must have been a front lawn in some previous existence. The plants were nothing more than charred skeletons of what they used to be, and the grass was replaced by the same grey powder that coated everything, which Jack now realized was ash. Some of the dirt had even been fused into glass. The shattered house to which the lawn belonged to was even worse off; apart from being completely burnt black by fire, the roof was near non-existent, two of the walls had fallen apart, and the interior was nothing but rubble. And it wasn't just Jack's immediate surroundings. This had clearly been an idyllic suburb, and as such, the same damage had been repeated throughout, street by street, with the same charred plantlife and the same houses reduced to matchsticks, with the same charred colours, black and grey, repeated over and over again, like a grim painting put together by a colorblind artist.

Even worse, were the cars, both in their driveways and on the street. They were unrecognizable as automobiles; whatever force had reduced the landscape to cinders had done the same to these cars, as they were nothing more than metallic shells, like the skulls of some deceased animal put out for display to add to the devastation. A light wind blew, making the scrap metal groan and creak and raise the hairs on the back of Jack's neck.

"Son of a bitch...," swore Jack, his voice hoarse, "Son of a bitch..."

Now just where the hell had he turned up? Jack calmed his beating heart and drew out his cellphone (it was a wonder that it had even survived the journey). He flipped open its screen, and ignored the 'No Service' indicator on the top left corner, instead switching over to a special set of numbers; the codes to the Autobots' emergency frequency, patented by Ratchet himself for use in situations just like these...well, almost like these...

Jack thumbed through the list of numbers before settling on the frequency for Autobot Outpost Omega One. He hit the button and waited, but to his surprise, the call didn't patch through. He frowned and tried a second time, but still no luck. He then attempted to contact each and every one of the Autobots, and he even tried Miko's cell, but still no dice. With a sigh, he flipped his phone closed, giving up the whole thing as a bad job. But he still held on to the device nevertheless.

His mind made up, Jack plodded down the street, his every step kicking up small clouds of ash. Hoever, navigating the charred street was easier said than done; the entire width of the road was choked with the rusted frames of charred automobiles, and Jack was trying his hardest to squeeze between these dead vehicles. Obviously, it looked like there was a massive exodus taking place before everything was completely wiped out. The reason for a mass evacuation? Jack didn't know, though he had a sneaking suspicion he was going to find out.

It was only when he realised that he was making hardly any progress at all, did Jack, with a frustrated snarl, give up travelling by road, and decide to stick with the sidewalks. And then he wondered why he hadn't thought of that earlier, and cursed himself.

* * *

Almost an hour later, and Jack was still walking.

He had tried to contact the Autobots several times, but to no avail. That didn't mean he was going to give up just yet, however. He was sure that if he could find a way into whatever this hellish place was, then he could jolly well find a way out. He just had to find some form of civilization in this blasted landscape. If he could, that is...

Jack sighed for the umpteenth time, as his cellphone tried and failed to patch through. He was beginning to wonder just why he kept on trying, when he noticed the letters on the brick wall.

They looked like they'd been spray painted quite some time ago, and the white paint was just beginning to fade. Nevertheless, the letters were still readable, even after such a presumably long time:

_NO SURVIVORS_

Jack felt his heart sink at the sight. No survivors? What did that mean? Was there an attack? Were people injured? And if there were, did that include the Autobots, as well as Raf, Miko and the others? And what about his Mom? What of Fowler and the others? What about-

A loud caw jolted Jack away from his thoughts, and he looked up to see a pitch black raven alight on a crisped fence post. The bird ruffled its tattered wings, sending more ash drifting downwards, and stared at Jack down its jagged beak. It cawed again.

Jack steadied his breathing and let out a breath. So this place was not completely dead after all; this bird, ragged and mangy as it was, had to be surviving somehow, which meant that there was probably a food source somewhere, maybe even people.

Emboldened, Jack walked on, ignoring the raven as it followed his progress, its beady black eyes glinting. He reached the end of the street, arriving at a burnt intersection, and it was there that he saw the remains of what was unmistakably a military helicopter.

It lay on its side amongst several crushed automobiles, its skin scorched and burnt, and its frame bent, crumpled and split open in several different places. Its entire tail unit was missing, having been brutally snapped off, and its rotors were in terrible shape; one of the blades was missing, and the others were bent at wierd angles, like broken fingers. Spray painted on its side was the same message again: No Survivors.

Jack swallowed, and approached the wreck cautiously. He could just barely make out the faded designations stenciled on the chopper's side, as well as several scratch marks that criss crossed the hull. To Jack, they eerily resembled the claw marks of some raging animal, and he shivered. He moved along the chopper's side until he reached the cockpit, and that was when he looked in and gave a small scream of terror.

The pilot, or rather, his skeleton, leered up at Jack from its place on his seat. The skull, along with all the other bones and the tattered remains of the pilot's uniform, were charred to the point of resembling brittle charcoal. As Jack scurried back, a few ribs crumbled into dust, and the grinning skull popped off its support and shattered itself on the control panel.

"Holy shit...," swore Jack, as he backed away slowly. He bumped into a car that hadn't been completely smashed to a pulp, and he saw that it too contained a skeleton, this one sprawled across the remains of the back seat like a macabre rag doll. He felt his breath catch in his throat. The skeleton was small, and it didn't take a genius to know that this was the skeleton of a child.

Jack wanted to feel sick, and he was seriously considering bending over and retching, when his phone rang.

Jack jumped in surprise at the sound of the ringtone, and he quickly flipped open the screen. The caller ID was registering as an unknown number, and Jack hesitated. But then he remembered where he was and how he got there, and he simply muttered "Screw it" before hitting the reply button. Immediately, a male voice filtered into Jack's ear.

"Operator here, callin' in response to an Autobot signal I picked from yer approximate location. Please identify yourself..."

The person on the other end was young, very much so, with an American accent, and Jack frowned. "Uh...Hello...?"

There was a pause on the other end, and then the Operator responded, "Umm...hello? You the guy who sent out yer distress call?"

"Uh...yeah?"

"_O-kaaay_...Well, forgive me for bein' a little rude an' all, but...who the fuck am I talkin' to?"

Jack paused, not sure how to respond. But he shook his head and said, "Hey, I'm the one in the dark here! I was trying to contact Team Prime, but-"

"Woah, woah, hold on! 'Team Prime'?" exclaimed the Operator. "What, is that some wannabe garage band some hick set up, or something?"

Jack clenched his teeth. "They're not a garage band," he said, as evenly as he could, "And I'm not a hick; my name's Jack."

There was another pause, and then the Operator responded. "Jack Darby? That's yer name? Weird...I think I've heard it before...can't say where, though..."

Jack felt a jolt of hope. "Yeah, my name's Jack...I was trying to get hold of Autobot Outpost Omega One-"

"Omega One?!" exclaimed the Operator, "You said Omega One?! Dude, Omega One's been decommissioned a real long time ago! Jesus, who the hell are you, man?"

Jack felt his stomach plummet. "De-Decommissioned? No, that's impossible...I was there myself a few hours ago! This can't be right!"

"Hey, I'm not lying to ya, man; I'm lookin' at the report on my screen and that's what it says...Man, you really are messed up. You sure you ain't been drinkin', dude?"

"I haven't been drinking!" snapped Jack, angrily. "I just woke up here in the middle of this hellhole, okay?!"

"So, you're sayin' you just magically woke up in the Southern Dead Zone...Man, this morning's just gettin' weirder and weirder..."

Jack snorted. "Tell me about it..."

"Well, since you seem to be so keen on a pickup, I guess I can arrange somethin' fer ya," said the Operator. Jack could hear what was unmistakably the sound of a wheeled chair and the tap-tap of a keyboard. "Just as long as you're really a 'Bot and not some 'Con in disguise."

Jack sighed, as relief flooded him; relief because there were people he could ask for help after all. "You don't have to worry about 'Cons," said Jack, "I'm only human, after all. Not much I can do with nothing but a cell phone..."

"Wait...you're human? And you're in the Southern Dead Zone? Damn...Y'know, I'm surprised you ain't been torn to pieces yet. You're a lucky man, Jacky-boy..."

"Err...Thanks, I guess?"

"Alright, I can get a Bridge out there," said the Operator, "but not at yer exact location; signals get really screwed up in the Dead Zones, so I'll have to send in the whole team out there in search formation to cover the whole area..."

Jack frowned. "Oh..how long is that gonna take?"

"Depends on whether or not you can survive out there long enough for us to find you...and whether or not we can comb the area fast enough...and whether or not I can get the guys to quit their training exercise...and whether or not I can get the Commander on line...You'll have to find some shelter, man...Maybe somewhere on the high ground, if you can find it."

"Okay..."

"And keep yer communicator on; It might help triangulate yer position better."

"Right, I'll keep that in mind," said Jack, as he worked his way through the tangle of dead automobiles, the skeletons forgotten. "Thanks a bunch...Operator..."

"Hey, just call me Zed, man, everybody else does!"

* * *

**For those of you who are wondering, no, I have not abandoned 'Exile'; I am currently working on the next chapter. In fact, I'm writing it right now.**

**Also, I am pleased to note that we have a new forum up on Fan Fiction: The Transformers Coalition for Open-Minded Writers, created in response to the recent bout of trolling attacks we've been suffering from.**

** No matter what pairing you ship or what character you like, you will always be welcome to the Coalition, where you can discuss your thoughts on the show and its characters, and where your ideas and voices will be heard by users who will truly respect your opinions, be they good or bad. So why don't you go ahead and give our forum a try? Who knows, you might even find a new favorite author over there! (please let it be me, please let it be me, please let it be me...)**

**-This Zapwing, signing off.**


	3. Found

**...**

**Found**

**...**

**_/Online./_**

**_/Startup../_**

**_/Patching.../_**

**_/Incoming Transmission./_**

_**SIC:** "This is Stormfront here, receiving you loud and-"_

_**Operator: **"Hey, what's happenin' Storm? Zed comin' at you loud an' clear!"_

_**SIC:** "*sigh* What is it, Zed?"_

_**Operator: **"I was wonderin' if you could take a little bit o' time to look at somethin'..."_

_**SIC: **"Zed, we are midway through our battle practice. Can it not wait?"_

_**Operator: **"No, no, hear me out, man! I got this signal coming all the way from the Dead Zone. A _distress_ signal!"_

_**/pause/**_

_**SIC:**"You...you are certain?"_

_**Operator:** " A hundred percent sure, man! I spoke with the guy: calls himself Jack, and he's itchin' for pickup."_

_**/pause/**_

_**SIC: **"You talked to this person?"_

_**Operator:** "Yep."_

_**SIC: **"...You do realise it might be a potential trap or some kind of malicious ruse, don't you?"_

_**Operator:**"I know, Storm, I know, that's what I thought when we were talkin' ! But then he mentioned Omega One-"_

_**SIC: **"Omega One?"_

_**Operator:** "-an' then I told him it got scrapped a long time ago, and then he told me he was lost an' all that shit, and then I told him that we could arrange somethin', and that's why I'm callin' you!"_

_**SIC:** "...Omega One, you say...Odd...Perhaps this does indeed merit investigation...Very well. I'll cut battle practice short and prepare the others for immediate scramble...See about getting the Ground Bridge operational, will you?"_

_**Operator: **"You got it, hombre!"_

_**SIC: **"And inform this person, this ...'Jack' that we are on our way for a search and rescue..."_

_**Operator:** "Will do, Storm! Over and out!"_

_**/Transmission terminated./**_

_**SIC:** "*sigh*...Wait till the Commander hears about this..."_

* * *

Jack grunted heavily, as he strained to pull himself onto the tiled roof. After a whole half hour of searching, he'd finally found a house that wasn't as extensively damaged, and made good on Zed's advice: get to someplace high up. With a final heave, Jack finally scrambled upwards and lay flat, his chest heaving as he took deep breaths; all that hard work had tired him out, and his forehead and chest were slick with sweat. He blew out a breath as he wiped his forehead, and then he noticed that a great deal of ash had adhered to his skin and clothing.

"Wonderful...," he grumbled, as he proceeded to dust himself off. It seemed that there would be no end to all this ash; even the roof was slathered with the stuff. His dusting done, Jack leaned back, his feet dangling over the edge of the roof. Now that he only had to wait for a rescue, all Jack could do now was think, especially since his phone didn't have any games he could entertain himself with. And did he have a lot to think about...

First things first; what had he gotten himself into? Omega One decommissioned? An entire suburb reduced to ash? Was the whole world like this? Did Team Prime even exist anymore?

And there was the question of how this Zed guy knew his name. Jackson Darby could, of course be particularly well known in this world, but that was only wishful thinking on his part, and he dismissed that theory. No, there had to be a logical explanation for this, and Jack decided that he would ask Zed the next time he contacted him.

Speak of the devil, there was his phone ringing again...

Jack fished his phone out and quickly flipped open the device, hitting the reply button. Immediately, Zed's voice sounded in his ear. "Hey, Jacky-boy! How you holdin' up?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm doing okay...I'm on a roof right now..."

"That's great, man, awesome! Just callin' to tell you that we're gettin' on with trackin' you down, so sit tight and enjoy the scenery!"

"Uhh...I'll try," muttered Jack, as he gazed across the charred, hellish landscape. "By the way, can I ask you something?"

"Hey, you know me, man. Fire away, Jacky..."

"Well...When we first met...How...How did you know my name?"

There was a pregnant pause, with only the bleak sound of the wind audible. Finally, Zed spoke, albiet hesitantly. "Can...umm...Listen, can you keep a secret, Jack?"

"Okay...," replied a cautious Jack, who was suddenly wondering where this was going.

"Promise me? Okay...well...I have this thing fer hackin', see? Can't resist trying to find a decent enough firewall fer me to screw over."

"Understandable," said Jack, who was reminded of Rafael. "Carry on..."

"Okay, so, it's...it's a Saturday night, right? And I'm all bored an' shit... So I have this bright idea to see if I can crack through the Commander's database remotely..."

Jack's brow crinkled. "Commander?"

"Yeah, our officer in charge...Anyway, I crack the files wide open, an' that was supposed to be it. Just break through the firewall, close it back up an' get outta there..."

Jack already knew what happened next. "But you didn't get out of there, did you?"

"No man, I didn't...I fucked up bad, man...There were some files in there, mighty secure, mighty curious...I didn't want to do it, but I did it anyway...So I opened 'em up, an' I managed to snag a peek an' I found yer name in the first one I looked in...And that's all I got; Commander had auxiliary security protocols on the database. Booted me right outta the system."

Jack was stunned. "My...my name was on the database? But...That doesn't make sense..."

"Hey, don't look at me, man; I'm just tellin' you what I know...But this doesn't go anywhere else, okay? I'm beggin' you man, you gotta keep this between us!"

"...Uhh...Right..."

"I'm serious, dude! If the Commander, or Storm, or anyone else find out I snuck into the system...I'll get martialled for...I don't know, man, but it ain't gonna be pretty!"

"Hey, relax, Zed, you've got my word; I promise I won't tell," said Jack. And it was a good thing too; he intended to find out just why this so-called 'Commander' was so interested in him.

Zed breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Thanks man, you have no idea how I wanted to get that off of my chest-" A sudden beeping sounded over the line, causing Zed to fall silent. Jack could hear the scraping of the wheeled office chair and the clicking of a keyboard as Zed spoke to someone. He was obviously in a conversation over another line, though exactly what it was that was being said was almost inaudible to Jack. Then, there was another series of clicks and Zed returned to Jack. "Hey, good news, Jacky-boy! We got a fix on your position! Throwback's the nearest, so he's comin' fer ya."

"...Throwback?"

"Oh, you're gonna love him, man; he's friendly, likes to play cards, loves music...Bit superstitious, though..."

Jack felt his brow crinkle again, and was about to ask Zed what exactly he meant by 'superstitious' when a noise caught his attention. At first, he thought it was the roar of an engine, but after straining his ears, he realised that it wasn't; it was too constant and had none of that mechanized growl he'd become familiar with. No, this was more of a drone, like the sort you'd hear on an old-timey propellor plane. Jack whipped his head around to locate the source of the noise, and found, to his surprise, a dense cloud of ash billowing a few blocks away, as if shaken loose by a heavy wind. It was not unlike some sort of miniature sandstorm; ash being swirled around and around, like someone was using a giant leafblower or something.

"Jack? Jack, you there, buddy?"

"I...I see something...Like some sort of ash cloud...and there's this noise..."

"...What kind of noise?"

"I don't know...some sort of buzzing..."

"Buzzing? _Buzzing?! _Oh man...Better find someplace to hide, Jack..." Zed suddenly sounded panicked, and he'd gone back to rapidly typing, the frantic clicking suddenly much more audible. Jack quickly stood up, not caring that the seat of his pants were coated in ash.

"What? Find a place to hide? What's going on?"

"I just hope to God it's not what I think it is. Take cover, keep quiet, an' try not to talk to me so loud..."

Jack didn't waste time. He quickly scanned the singed rooftop, finding a jagged hole just big enough for him to fit into, and immediately darted for it. Peeking into it told him that he was directly above one of the rooms, and without hesitation, he jumped down, throwing up yet another cloud of ash. Jack coughed, waving away more of the irritating substance, and as his vision cleared, he realized that he was in what was unmistakeably a bedroom, though the room itself was too gutted for him to make certain.

Jack quickly scurried over to the blackened windows, and hunkered down, the better to make himself a less obvious target. "Okay, Zed, I'm in the house. Is that good enough?"

"Just about right. But, we're gonna have to cut the comm link for now; if they intercepted your distress call, I don't want our signal gettin' compromised." Jack felt his heart sink; he'd been hoping that Zed would be able to guide him through this. Almost as if he'd read his mind, Zed spoke again. "Just sit tight, man; Throwback's on his way, comin' as fast as he can!"

And then the link was cut.

Jack swallowed, as the eerie silence enveloped him. Without Zed's voice in his ear, the sound of the wind outside had intensified. As well as that buzzing, which sounded like it was getting closer...

Jack held his breath, his heart hammering, as the droning sound filled his ears and made the walls shake. More ash was dislodged from every available surface, and Jack had to cover his face to keep them at bay. The droning had now intensified to a full blown roar, and the wind had grown in strength, kicking up a veritable storm of ash. It was not unlike sand that was blown around by helicopter blades, and the realization made Jack's heart sink.

His suspicions were confirmed when the wind suddenly cut out, and the droning noise ceased. There was the familiar sound of metal parts seperating, colliding, rearranging; the sounds of a transformation. Then, a loud thud shook the house once more, as a massive shape alighted on the roof, shaking splinters and ash from the ceiling. Two more thuds sounding from the street outside and on the front lawn, told Jack that others had arrived as well, rounding them off to three.

The boy swallowed, slowly standing up, being careful not to make any noise, and cautiously edged his way to the bedroom door. His ears were pricked, and he could make out the unmistakable clatter of multiple limbs, as the one directly on top of the house inspected the roof.

Jack eased into the thankfully open doorway, and was just about to make his way down the hall, when a furious clamour made him freeze in place. The one on the roof had evidently found the hole Jack had just jumped through, and was quickly making for it. Jack quickly slipped out the doorway, and took cover against the wall, just as the thing's body eclipsed whatever light the hole let through. There was an omnious growling sound, followed by the violent cracking and splintering of tiles as the thing stuck an appendage through.

Jack swallowed, and risked a peek. What he saw was a metal limb, definitely cybertronian, sleek, powerful, painted a deep bluish-black. It was covered in several small barbs, had three clawed digits on its servo, and it rooted about, as if trying to grab something, claws grasping on thin air. In fact, its reach was so long, that the claws even touched the floor, gouging large, vicious rents. Jack felt his heart clench in sheer terror, but swallowed it down; this was no time to panic.

Whatever the thing was, it had given up, and the arm withdrew, sending ash and powdered tiles billowing to the floor; it had apparently lost interest. Jack took a deep breath and exhaled, listening to the sounds of the thing's many limbs as it scuttled over the roof again. He slowly detached himself from the wall, and made his way down the stairs. Thankfully, they weren't as damaged as he had expected, but his fear made him tread carefully, not wanting to alert anyone/thing to his presence. Heck, he could still hear that thing moving around up there.

He arrived in what must have been a living room which had been given over to storage; there were shelves upon shelves that held nothing but glasss bottles of various sizes and in various stages of detorioration, and they stretched along the entire length of the room. Jack wondered exactly what they had contained, but then decided he did not want to know. Not surprisingly, there was a layer of ash here as well.

He walked cautiously, being sure not to make a sound, and carefully wiped away some of the grime that coated the windows; he had to see what he was up against. The view outside was the same desolate landscape as before, with a single ruined car in the driveway. Jack could still hear the sounds of activity outside however, and he squinted, trying to make out what was going on out there.

That was when one of them scuttled into view. Jack had to hold back a sharp intake of air, as he took in the creature's frame. It moved on six, slender legs, its body divided into three parts, obviously a head, thorax and abdomen. The abdomen was a large, teardrop shaped thing, tapering down to a barbed, needle-sharp stinger. Its six legs ended in the same claw-like appendage he'd seen earlier, and they made gouges in the tarmac with every step they took. Massive translucent wings were folded across the things back, and as it turned about, Jack caught a glimpse of its head; a hideous array of mandibles and shearing mouthparts, with six bright optics that burned red. The whole thing was topped off by a pair of slender antennae that rested atop the thing's head. To complete the creature, its exoskeleton was rendered in a deep bluish-black, just like the limb he'd seen earlier.

There was no mistaking it: the creature was an Insecticon. But an unfamiliar one; the specimens Jack had seen were more reminiscent of a Hercules Beetle. These, however, were different, more like-

"Wasps...," breathed Jack, as he watched the thing slowly scuttle towards the scrapped automobile in the driveway. As it approached, the creature's frame buckled and shifted, as it assumed its bipedal mode. The head's optics dimmed, as it assumed a new position on the creature's chest, allowing another, smaller head to take its position, though the antennae stayed in place. The rear legs suddenly twisted around as they assumed a more human like stance, and the front two legs became arms. The wings fluttered but then became still, as they splayed out, much like a Seeker's wings.

Yes, it was definitely a different kind of Insecticon; this bipedal mode was much more leaner, sleeker, agile...

The Insecticon, now fully transformed, finally stopped directly in front of the car in the driveway, it frame towering over the ruined machine. It flexed its claws, and then grabbed hold of the vehicle's roof. With a horrible screeching noise, the thing was torn off completely, to be thrown aside. It landed somewhere nearby with a loud crash, but the Insecticon paid no heed; it bent down, inspecting the vehicle's ruined interior. Having not found what it was looking for, it proceeded to violently, yet methodically dismantle the vehicle, piece by shredded piece. Jack felt his hands shake at the sight of the sheer violence, and he slowly backed away from the window. They were looking for him; of that, there was no doubt. And the worst part was that he was directly under their noses, within easy reach.

Jack inched back further, hoping that he wouldn't be seen. But then, he felt his shoulders bump into one of the shelves, dislodging a single glass bottle from its perch. Jack reacted instinctively; his hands darted out, fingers scrabbling agains the bottle, only for it to slip between his fingers. It hit the floor and shattered into several pieces with a mighty crash that reverberated throughout the bleak house.

Jack felt his heart clench, as silence enveloped him once more. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his eyes darted toward the window, only to find that the driveway was empty, with only the shredded car in view. He strained his ears, trying to locate any sort of sound, and that was when he noticed that the Insecticon on the roof had become eerily silent-

A mighty crash made Jack jump, and he looked around just in time to see an entire wall being torn down under overwhelming force, ash suddenly billowing outwards in a chaotic manner. Glass bottles were shaken from their roosts and they clattered down, shattering and powdering the ground with broken glass. The sheer suddenness of it all made Jack fall on his backside. As the ash and dust cleared, the weak sunlight filtered through and offered him a view of the Insecticon that stood before him in bipedal mode, all its four arms having unsheathed their claws.

Its optics- all six of them - snapped towards Jack, and it flexed its two upper arms, both of them turning into vicious tine-snouted weapons, while the lower two remained as they were. The creature let out a low rattle and a hiss, as it spoke;

"Found you..."


	4. When the Lead Starts to Fly

**...**

**When the Lead Starts to Fly**

**...**

"Look at you...," hissed the Insecticon, "All soft flesh and muscle and springy bones...I wonder what kind of noise you'll make as I pluck your limbs off one by one..."

Jack only had time to scramble out of the way just before the Insecticon let loose a volley of vicious barbs. They speared the air with an eerie whistling noise before impacting the very ground Jack had been standing in mere seconds ago. Upon contact, they immediately secreted a noxious green ooze that sizzled and burned the ground around it with a horrendous acrid smell.

Jack didn't waste time. With energy borne partly out of adrenaline and partly out of sheer terror, he bolted for the street, narrowly avoiding the second Insecticon as it made a grab for him. The third was no slouch either. Quickly converting to wasp mode, it buzzed towards Jack in hot pursuit. The other two Insecticons followed suit, and they too gave chase.

Jack could already feel more sweat soaking his shirt as he pumped his arms and legs faster and faster. The drone of the Insecticons' wings threw up yet another storm of ash that billowed around Jack, forcing him to shield his face. He heard a guttural snarl, and he ducked just in time to avoid a swipe from an armored limb and a few more of those acidic barbs.

Jack quickly recovered and then dodged in the other direction to evade another clawed servo. "You infuriating little...Stop moving why don't you!?" snarled the Insecticon, as Jack dodged another swipe. The razor sharp claws narrowly missed his head by a hair and cut a derelict car to ribbons with an agonizing metallic screech. Jack grunted as he stumbled, but regained his footing and surged on.

And then he heard it. He had mistaken it for the drone of the Insecticons's wings at first, but then he recognised the metallic roar of an engine, and then the squeal of tires. Jack's eyes widened, and he immediately threw himself onto the ground just before the pale glow of headlights cut through the billowing ash. Then, the engine and headlights suddenly cut out to be replaced with the sounds of a transformation and heavy footfalls. The ground shook, and Jack let out an 'eep!', as large pedes thundered around him, and he quickly flipped himself over just in time to see a massive fist deliver an uppercut to the wasp's face.

The creature shrieked as it was sent flying backwards. It tumbled through the air, wings and limbs akimbo, before landing right on top of a ruined truck and crushing it flat. The other two Insecticons quickly transformed to bipedal mode and landed, clawed pedes gouging huge rents in the tarmac.

Jack coughed as the ash settled around him. Now that there was no more of the substance billowing around him, he could now have a clear view of the newcomer. He was a scout sized mech, with doorwings that flared out of his shoulders, but he was stockier and bulkier, his frame composed of flat surfaces and sharp angles. He was painted entirely in a dark matte blue, with dabs of black on his pedes, hips, chest, shoulders and helm, and his light grey faceplate was set in a light frown, bright blue optics switching back and forth between the Insecticons warily.

Abruptly, the mech looked down at Jack, and said, "Are you alright?" His voice was an odd mix of light and deep, the voice of a man in his mid twenties.

Jack fumbled a bit before replying, "Y-yeah...yeah, I'm good...,"

The mech gave a bright smile. "Good to know. The name's Throwback, by the way."

"Jack...Jack Darby."

A sudden hiss drew the both of them out of their conversation, and they looked up to see that the two standing Insecticons had unleashed their weapons and were advancing quickly. The third was still having trouble getting back in action. Its limbs flailed about comically as it tried to extricate itself from the truck impaled on the various sharp edges of its frame, and its guttural curses filled the air.

Throwback pursed his lip components. "Get behind me, Jack..."

Jack quickly complied, scrambling to his feet and taking cover behind a derelict four-wheel drive as Throwback cycled his weapons. His forearms buckled and shifted, forming thick, quad-barelled gund, and with two simultaneous clicks, he turned off the safeties and levelled their sights towards the wasps. Immediately, Jack braced himself for what would surely be the familiar discharge of deadly weaponised energy.

Instead, he was surprised once again. Throwback's weapons gave a short, high pitched whine before spitting out, not energy, but a literal hailstorm of mass driven, high caliber rounds that rocketed down the street and peppered the two Insecticons with numerous bullet holes. Jack quickly covered his ears to protect them from the explosive din of gunfire, and he drew back into cover, the better to avoid the spent shells that rained down from Throwback's guns.

The Insecticon on the left snarled as the bullets bit into its frame, and it immediately dove out of the way, shifting to wasp mode as it did so. The one on the right wasn't so lucky. It had tried to weather the storm of gunfire, only to be literally shredded as bullets tore its frame apart from the chest to the neck and helm, causing energon and lubricants to gush and splatter everywhere like some macabre fountain. The wasp gave a final gurgle before falling to the ground, causing more ash to be thrown into the air.

The other Insecticon, still in wasp mode, circled around, energon and other fluids dripping out of its various bullet holes. It hissed and flexed its claws, its wings thrumming wildly as it rapidly approached the blue mech.

Throwback was ready, however. In a single smooth motion, he ducked and grabbed one of the wasp's legs just as it flew over, and swung the limb around, the creature's body following. The Insecticon could only let out a strangled grunt as its body was slammed down to the tarmac with excessive force. Without even skipping a beat, Throwback jammed his pede against the wasp's chest and fired straight into the creature's helm, scattering energon, fluids and charred compenents in every conceivable direction.

And that was when the third Insecticon finally broke free of the truck's remains with a triumphant rattle. It shook off bits of the vehicle and then charged towards Throwback from behind, fangs bared. Jack only saw the creature when it was too late. The wasp had already closed the distance between its target, and Jack only had time to shout, "Behind you!", before the Insecticon pounced.

Time seemed to slow down completely. Throwback could only turn around to face the beast as it opened its jaws, shearing mouthparts buzzing and whirring like dentist's drills in overdrive, its numerous claws oustretched, ready to violently rend Throwback's frame.

Jack heard it before he saw it; a soft whistle, and then a loud_ 'THWACK!'_ as a fast moving projectile smacked into the wasp's helm. The Insecticon only had a split second to look stunned before the bullet literally detonated inside its helm, beheading the creature completely as well as tearing and warping large sections of its chest plates.

Jack gaped as the wasp's smouldering frame fell and skidded to a stop mere inches from Throwback's pedes, and he looked up to the mech himself to see him let out a slow breath. "Okay...what was that?" asked Jack.

"A high velocity explosive round," said Throwback, as he squinted towards the horizon. "That was Throttle's work right there; she's never missed a shot."

"...Throttle?"

"Yes, our sniper. And she's a damned good one as well." There was a series of clunks as Throwback ejected two spent ammunition clips from his arms, followed by a whirr and click as new ones slid into place. "No point dawdling. We'd better hurry and find a safe place to Bridge out." He retracted his weapons, and then his body shifted into vehicle mode, the doors popping open invitingly. The car was completely foreign to Jack; it was very futuristic in its design, with bio lights around the frame and on the wheels, and yet it also resembled something closer to a tricked out Dodge.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Throwback, "Come on in!"

Jack quickly complied. He scrambled into Throwback's driver seat, and the seatbelts automatically clicked into position. As the door swung shut, a crackle sounded from Throwback's radio, and a female voice filtered through.

"Looks like you're becoming friendly with the little one, Throwback."

Her voice was light, with an English accent and a curious sing-song quality to it. Jack blinked and uttered a confused, "...uhh..."

"It's Throttle," explained Throwback, "It's alright, Jack. Say hello; it's not like she's going to bite you...not through the radio, anyway..."

By this time, he's already gunned his engine and turned down a street that was relatively clear of wreckage, weaving between the rusted husks of automobiles. Jack coughed and looked at the radio.

"Umm...Hi?"

"Hello!" replied the sniper, cheerfully. "Oh my, I do hope you have a good explanation for Stormfront; he's quite a bit peeved."

"Peeved?" asked Jack nervously.

"Of course he's peeved," mumbled Throwback, "After all, he had to end Mordor and Boris' battle practice."

"Speak of the Chaos Bringer," said Throttle, "There's Boris' MODE coming your way..."

Jack was just about to ask her just what she meant by a 'MODE ', when he got his answer. There was a sudden movement above the rooftops, which Jack mistook for another Insecticon at first. But then the machine floated down right in the middle of the street, and Jack couldn't help but gasp in shock.

The first thing that grabbed him were the four wing-like extensions that flared out from the machine's hips and shoulders. They angled up and down as the MODE descended, and they thrummed, glowing with some sort of energy. Some form of anti-gravity propulsion, Jack thought, as the MODE's feet touched the ground with a heavy, mechanical crunch. The machine was not very large, being about the same size as an average, healthy cybertronian. It was humanoid mecha, two arms with five-fingered hands, two legs with feet, somewhat slim waist and a visored head, and it was painted in a drab desert camo; a perfectly legitimate military machine.

What really made Jack's jaw flop open, however, was the MODE's general aesthetic. The mecha's proportions, smooth surfaces, and angular head were so damnably and excruciatingly in-your-face familiar, that Jack accidentaly uttered, "Japanese...?!"

"Hm? Is something wrong, Jack?" asked Throwback, drawing to a stop.

"Huh? No...It's just that...What is that thing?!"

The blue mech would have raised a blow plate had his face been visible, but then he realized what Jack was talking about, and a ripple of surprise ran through Throwback's dashboard. "Wait...are you saying that you've never seen a MODE before?"

"Well...no."

"Get out of the car!" shouted a voice.

Jack jumped, and he looked up, through Throwback's windshield, to the MODE's visored head. "I said get out of the car! Yes, I'm talking to the skinny _suka _inside Throwback! Out!" The harsh voice was magnified by what were obviously loudspeakers, and it was somewhat accented. Obviously, it was the mecha's 'driver' who was speaking to him, and the intimidating tone had the desired effect; Jack quickly unbuckled himself and popped the door open.

Right before he slammed the door closed, he heard Throttle's voice over the radio: "Don't worry Jack, I'll be over there in a second..."

There was a whirr and hum of motors as the MODE kneeled down. The mecha raised a fist to its chest, almost as a gesture of fealty, and then the lights emanating from its visor and around its head suddenly cut out. There was a clunk and a hiss as sections of the machine's chest slid open, revealing the pilot. Jack blinked in surprise as the slim figure unclasped the various restraints with a single press of a button, and then jump down onto the MODE's proferred fist. The second her feet touched the metal surface, she kicked off again, this time landing on the ground with a crunch of gravel.

Jack blinked. "Boris is a girl?" he whispered.

"Yes,'Boris'," replied Throwback, just as quietly, "It's short for 'Borislava'...We just like to call her 'Boris', because...Well, you'll see..."

She was young, looking to be around Jack's own age, and just as tall. She had pale skin, almost white, and she wore a curious bluish-black suit that managed to look both form-fitting and bulky at the same time. The most striking feature, however, was her hair; it was a very light blond, almost whitish-grey, and it was cut in a short, spiky pixie cut. In fact, her hair was so short, that for a fleeting second, Jack actually mistook her for a boy.

"Uhh...hello?" he said, smiling weakly, as the girl approached, her boots crunching angrily as she trampled debris underfoot.

She didn't give him a chance to say anything else. Her hand, encased in fingerless gloves, curled into a tight fist, which she sent right into Jack's face with all the force of a jackhammer. Jack's face exploded in pain, and he clutched his nose, as he fell backwards onto Throwback's hood, swearing. The blue mech was stunned.

"Boris!" he exclaimed, "Was that _really_ necessary!?"

"Shut up!" snapped the girl, without even looking at the car. She then loomed over Jack and stabbed a finger at his chest. "Just who do you think you are?!"

Jack frowned, trying to ignore the pain. "What-"

"Answer me!" she shot back, her accent thick. "Who do you think you are?! You think you can just bring us out here so close to enemy territory and risk our necks just to pick up a weedy _civilian_ who lost his way home?!"

Jack felt his indignation rise at Boris' comment. "Hey, it wasn't my fault! I just woke up in this forsaken place and I have no clue how I got here!"

The girl's frown disappeared for a second, only to be replaced by a scowl as she scoffed. "So the skinny little _shlyukha _just_ '_woke up' in this place. Yes, I'm sure that's _very_ beleivable," she growled, with blatant sarcasm. "Listen up, _civilian_! You've had the honor of being rescued by _us _(no, we're not happy about it), so that means you're playing by our rules. The _Commander's_ rules. Got that, _suka_?"

Jack could have sworn that he had felt himself shrink a few inches just by staring at Boris' furious face. "Y-yeah," he stammered.

"I'm serious!" she snarled, as she grabbed Jack by the front of his shirt. "Because I swear to God, if we find out you're some sort of spy, I'll break your bones on my knees. Each and every one of them! One by one!"

"I got it, I got it!" exclaimed Jack, his panic rising. Boris snorted in disgust, and let the boy fall back onto Throwback's hood. The minute his back hit the surface, the thrum of helicopter blades became audible.

More ash was blown around as the rotor craft, painted a drab military grey, descended and transformed in mid air. The chopper blades split into two at the turbines and moved to the shoulders, while the rest of the frame shifted and collapsed to from a slim, female figure. Right before she landed, a large, oversized gun unfolded itself from the depths of her inner structure, which she caught with ease. It was a sniper rifle, a vicious looking, long barelled weapon, with a scope mounted at the top, and suddenly, Jack knew who the 'bot was...

"Throttle...?"

The femme surveyed the scene before her. "Oh, dearie me," she mumbled, "I suppose I was a tad late, wasn't I?"

Immediately, Jack noticed that she was much, much taller than Arcee. Her frame was colored in the same grey camo pattern as her vehicle mode, and her faceplate, colored in a slightly lighter grey, held two optics that shone a brilliant green, a departure from the standard blue. They immediately locked onto Jack, and the femme smiled. "Hello, Jack!" she greeted, cheerfully, "Sorry, for not being able to introduce myself properly!" She extended her servo and held out her pinky digit.

Jack hesitated, but then realized what he had to do. Tentatively, he touched the metal digit and shook it, as he would shake someone's hand. "Err...Hi..."

Standing nearby, Boris snorted in annoyance. "If we're done lollygagging," she grunted, "We might as well get a moving...It was just three wasp 'Cons alright, but I'm not going to stick around and see if they'll send in the scarabs next."

"She's right," said Throwback, as he quickly transformed. "I'll call Zed..." He placed a digit to the side of his helm and activated his com. "Zed? Yes, it's me...We have the package safe and sound...Yes, you can Bridge back Mordor and Dozer when we get back. Stormfront as well...alright, we're waiting. Tell Storm that we're done and that we're Bridging the package back home"-Throwback glanced in Jack's direction, taking in his dirty and sooty appearance-"And tell Flatline to prep sick bay. Just in case...Alright, Throwback out."

Jack coughed. "So...what happens now?"

Throttle and Throwback looked at each other uncertainly. It was Boris who finally answered.

"We take you home and see just how much painful interrogation you can take," she grunted, as she walked back to her MODE. "You better be worth all this trouble, _civilian_." She jumped up onto the mecha's fist and then up into the cockpit.

Once the MODE had reactivated and stood up to its full height, the air fizzled and then crackled as a familiar green vortex burst to life.

* * *

**You know, I was actually hesitant about having piloted mecha in this story, as I've already featured them in some of my previous stories. I feared that readers might have grown bored with my habit of inserting mecha like Boris' MODE at every opportunity I get and that I might turn readers away from this story.**

**In the end, it was unavoidable, as I could think of no other way for humans to logically be able to fight alongside Autobots, and that the MODEs have now become a vital part of the story. That, and I just like robots with a Japanese 'Gundam'-like aesthetic.**

**Hope you guys can still give me constructive criticism and feedback.**

**-This is Zapwing, signing off.**


	5. The Crew

**...**

**The Crew**

**...**

Jack blinked as he stepped out of the vortex. For just one fleeting second, he had half-expected to see the familiar main bay of Autobot Outpost Omega One. Instead, what greeted him at the other end of the portal was something else entirely.

It immediately reminded Jack of some sort of aircraft hangar; the first thing his feet touched was a short metal runway that ran the entire length of the chamber, feeding directly into the Ground Bridge, and it was just wide enough for five cybertronians to comfortably stand side by side.

Located on either side of this runway were what looked like four heavy, industrial elevators, two on each side. They were large, increbidly so, and their purpose was made clear when Boris maneuvered her MODE right into one, its footsteps shaking the ground. Jack stopped in his tracks and gazed in amazement as the docking clamps secured the mecha and a gantry slid into place.

"What are you waiting for, _civilian_?" grunted Boris' voice, "You going to move, or do I have to give you a warning shot?" Jack swallowed, and took a step back; he had only known the girl for a few minutes and he already had the feeling that she might make good on her promise. An electric buzzer sounded, followed by a hydraulic hiss and a rumble, as the elevator, MODE and all, was slowly lifted up through an opening in the ceiling, obviously to another floor entirely.

"Give her time," muttered Throwback, as he ushered Jack towards the exit, "She'll simmer down after a while, give or take a few hours."

"In the meantime," chirped Throttle, "Let's get you over to sick bay; Flatline will want to take a look at you."

Another buzzer sounded, and the large heavily reinforced double doors situated at the far end of the bay rumbled open. Beyond, was a large flourescent lit hallway that stretched before them, with several other corridors branching left and right.

"Are we underground?" Jack asked, as they walked down the hallway, his head craning upwards towards the ceiling.

Throwback coughed. "Sorry, Jack, that's kinda classified..."

Jack looked at him strangely, but then Throttle answered. "It's standard procedure," she explained, "We still don't know whether you pose a threat or not, so we can't tell you anything just yet."

Jack eyes widened just a fraction. "And...And if I _am_ a threat?"

"Well," Throttle said, "Security protocols state that we will have to surgically remove your eyeballs and scrub your corneas-"

"W-WHAT?!" Jack screamed.

Throwback quickly laid a servo on Jack's back reassuringly. "Throttle, you're scaring him!" he snapped, "Jack, don't worry; nobody's removing anybody's eyes..."

Throttle, on the other hand, simply looked mildly bewildered. "What? What did I say?"

* * *

Eventually, Jack was led down to the sick bay; a large set of metal double doors, painted red with the universal medical symbol plastered across it in white. A small screen inset into the door itself stated that the doctor was 'IN'.

"So...," Jack said, uncertainly,"Flatline...what's he like?"

Throttle bent down towards him. "Word of advice: try not to make eye contact and do exactly as he says...You'll know what I mean," she added, seeing Jack's baffled expression.

"She's got a point there," said Throwback with a theatrical shudder, as he faced the door. And then he did the strangest thing; he tapped a servo lightly against the doorframe and drew a digit across his chest plates in a complicated gesture, as he muttered something inaudible to himself.

Immediately Zed's words came to Jack's mind: _"Oh, you're gonna love him, man; he's friendly, likes to play cards, loves music...Bit superstitious, though..."_

Superstitious...Was this what Zed had been talking about?

Throwback flipped a switch on a wall mounted device, and spoke into the speaker. "Flatline? It's me. We've got the package and he's waiting for a medical assist."

A green light flashed on the door panel and the doors slid open with a hydraulic hiss. As they peeled apart, a jet of cold air hit Jack with all the force of a popped champagne cork, followed by a cloud of cold vapour. It was like opening a giant freezer.

The vapour cleared away, and there, standing stock still, arms at his side and stiff as a board, was a mech. He was remarkably tall, a four wheeler, judging by the wheels that sprouted from his shoulders and ankles, had incredibly thin and gangly arms and legs, and was painted entirely in a grey-ish off-white color, with a muted, mustard yellow in places.

But the most unsettling part of him was his face.

When Jack had studied the Second World War in history class, he had become privy to the fact that Nazi scientists often performed grotesque experiments on concentration camp inmates. He'd also seen a picture of one such scientist, and now that he looked up at the mech before him, Jack couldn't help but notice the frightening resemblance.

The scalp of his helm resembled the wierd cap that surgeons wore to keep their hair in check, his faceplate, covering his mouth and entire lower face, could easily be a surgical mask, and his optics...The optics were nothing more than two circular lenses, glowing a bright cyan with no discernible pupils, and to Jack, they were goggles. The boy couldn't help it; he felt his skin crawl.

Flatline looked down at Jack, the rest of his body perfectly still, as if frozen. "Is this the package?" he asked. His voice was quiet, almost a mumble, and he spoke in a detached monotone.

"That's him," said Throwback, who had gone noticeably stiff.

"That's the package," said Throttle, her voice suddenly less airy than before. "He'll need some cleaning, and maybe a quick check up..."

Jack couldn't help but squirm a little as Flatline appraised him dispassionately with his blank goggles, his servo twiddling a tiny dial on the rim of his optics with digits that looked far too thin and skeletal for Jack's liking. Then the mech bent down and plucked Jack from the ground like a toy, the boy screaming as his stomach flipped from the sudden change in height.

Throwback reacted. "Flatline, wait-"

But anything Throwback had to say was cut off when Flatline padded the door closed right in the scout's face. Flatline and Jack were left alone in silence, the boy squirming against the surprisingly strong pencil-thin digits. The mech ignored Jack as he walked a short distance to another set of doors, padding these open and revealing sick bay.

It was much larger and much more clinical than Ratchet's med bay, all gleaming metal walls and polished surfaces. A row of berths ran along one side. Various consoles and holo-screens adorned the other, interspersed with rows of storage units and carts that held various tools and supplies. As if to solidify its position as a medical facility, the familiar antiseptic odour that Jack had come to associate with any hospital or clinic permeated throughout sick bay.

That, and it was cold. Not cold enough to be freezing, but just enough to make Jack shiver slightly and to cause his breath to condense.

Flatline approached a berth and gently lowered his servo. Feeling the spidery digits loosening, Jack squirmed out of the mech's servo and hopped down onto the padded surface. Flatline then turned to a holo and began typing.

Jack fidgeted. Something about the way the screen's glow played across Flatline's face was unsettling. "So...what're we gonna start with?" asked Jack. "Is this like a regular check up, or-"

Flatline stopped typing and walked over to one of the storage cabinets, without a sign that he had heard Jack at all. He padded one open and began rifling around inside. Having found what he was looking for, he returned to Jack's berth with a clear container filled with a luminous blue substance. The mech set this down on the berth and went back to the cabinets, leaving Jack alone.

Jack frowned, and cautiously approached the container. It was large, cylindrical, about as wide as a bath tub and as tall as two average adult humans stacked one on top of another. The luminous substance within glowed with a soft light, and this piqued Jack's curiosity enough to look for a label. A quick jog around the container revealed a label that identified the substance as 'Sanitation Gel'.

"Huh...," Jack took a step back and his eyes looked up at the open top of the container. If it was sanitary, it was safe right? Maybe he could hop up and see just what this gel-

Flatline returned, his sudden appearance startling the boy; somehow, he seemed to move without making a sound. "Stay still," he monotoned, as he activated a small device he held in his servo. A flickering beam emanated from the device and ran over Jack up and down, from head to toe. Two seconds later, the beam winked out, followed by a beep as a small holo screen was projected from the device. The cybertronian text was incomprehensible to Jack (from his angle, it was all written backwards anyway), but he could see images of his innards and skeletal structure, which slightly unnerved the boy.

Flatline quietly surveyed this data for half a minute, and then shut off the device, setting it aside. "So...," Jack asked, nervously, "Clean bill of health? Or something?"

Flatline didn't reply. In fact, Jack didn't even need a reply, because when the mech turned back to Jack, he held what looked like the largest pair of tweezers Jack had ever seen.

"Wait...What-"

The tweezer suddenly snapped down on the back of Jack's shirt, and the boy was suddenly lifted up. Jack yelped, as his feet left the ground. "Hey, wait! What are you-". Flatline's servo reached for the gel that he had set aside previously, and positioned it beneath Jack.

Realization hit Jack, and he only had a split second to draw in a lungful of air, before Flatline dunked him in the gel, tweezers and all.

Sanitation gel didn't feel so bad; it was somewhere between fluid and jelly, with the texture of something like silly putty. Unfortunately, it was also bone-freezingly cold, and the way it slipped and squished over his body and into his clothing made him want to squirm violently.

Flatline stirred Jack around the gel for approximately ten seconds, and then lifted the boy out of the gel with a wet _'schlluuuuurrrp'_. Jack gasped heavily, as his lungs finally tasted air, and he almost collapsed as he was set back down to the berth. He was literally dripping in luminescent blue gel, huge wads of the substance sliding down his front and splattering to the berth. The temperature of the substance, as well as the cold of the sick bay made Jack shiver as goosebumps appeared on his skin.

"Wha-What was that for?!" squawked Jack, in between gulps of air.

Flatline, once again, ignored him as he plucked Jack off the berth and deposited him on the floor of the sick bay. "Through that door is a bathroom," said the mech, as he calmly pointed to a metal door beside a large console. "You may bathe yourself there."

"Wha-"

"Zed will have fresh clothing brought to you." And then he turned back to the holo and resumed typing, leaving Jack alone. The boy stared after Flatline for a second, before closing his mouth and sliding the door open.

* * *

After his unceremonius encounter with the gel, the shower had been most welcome. The bathroom wasn't that bad either, and Jack had only been too happy to dump his gel encrusted clothes into a waiting basket and proceed to scrub every last blob of the substance from his skin.

The warm shower also gave him time to think. So the team, so far, comprised of a somewhat superstitious scout class mech, an airy helicopter sniper femme, a highly aggressive mecha-piloting young girl of dubious nationality, an eccentric Operator with a flair for profanity, and a creepy-as-hell medic who looked a little too suspect for Jack's taste.

Yep, he was having a hell of a time here.

Jack shut off the shower and dried himself off. Slipping a towel around his waist, he drew aside the shower curtain and heard a sharp knock at the door. "Yo, Jack!" said a familiar voice from the other end, ""Yo, Jacky-boy! You in there?"

Jack quickly hopped out of the shower stall. "...Zed?" Without pause, Jack slid open the door and came face to face with the mysterious Operator himself.

His first impression was that of a very, very tall imp, about the same height as Jack, and almost as thin. His cheeks and pointed nose were peppered with freckles that bordered his bright green eyes, and the ear splitting grin he wore was missing a tooth. The most alarming part about him, however, was his hair. It was a flaming red and despite being cut short, it stuck out in every direction, like a spastic hedgehog.

Zed's grin grew a few inches. "Heh...You're skinnier than I thought you'd be..." He stuck out his hand. "You know me already, man, but still, lemme introduce myself; name's Zed, Operator. Good to see you in the flesh, man."

Jack took his hand. "Jackson Darby," he said, awkwardly, as he looked at Zed up and down. The Operator wore a utilitarian greyish blue trouser and military jacket setup, with a simple white shirt. The Autobot logo was printed on his shoulders in red, and a pair of bright orange headphones sat around his neck.

"Hey, man, I'm glad you made it out in one piece!" chirped Zed, "Survivin' in a Dead Zone and bugs? Yer awesome, man, yer awesome..."

"Uhh... Thanks?"

"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot; here's yer clothes! Just got 'em straight out o' the laundry."

"Oh, right," mumbled Jack as Zed handed him what looked like a black plastic baggie. Jack frowned as he stared at the thing; the baggie was like the sort used to store food, except greatly oversized.

Zed had probably seen Jack's expression. "It's easy man, just pull the tab an' open up the bag. Yer clothes'll be in there, I promise."

"Err, right...just give me a minute to get dressed..."

"Hey, take your time, man, take your time..."

Jack slid the door closed and frowned, as he turned the baggie over to see the words '_Autobot Unit Standard Issue: DO NOT TAMPER'_ printed in white, as well as a series of barcodes and strings of numbers. Grasping the bag tightly, he carefully pulled the tab and the baggie popped open.

Apparently Zed's clothing was a uniform of some sort; the outfit was identical to Zed's, down to the last detail, even the red Autobot logo on the left shoulder. The logo was what made Jack pause. Now that he had a closer look, he could see that it had been modified extensively. The eyes had become slanted in an intimidating death glare, and the lower half of the logo had been fashioned to resemble the jaws and teeth of a human skull. The words 'Rogues Gallery' were emblazoned below in red.

As the logo leered up at him, Jack wondered, for the umpteenth time that day, just what had he gotten himself involved in.

On the other hand, the clothes were nice and comfy, and Jack gladly slipped them on.

"Lookin' good," Zed said, as Jack stepped out of the bathroom, "Hell, you spend a few days here, and you just might fit in..."

"Yeah, maybe...Listen, I never thanked you for getting me out of that tight spot..."

"Hey, any time, Jacky-boy! 'Sides, it's not like I-"

"_Ouch!_ Dammit!"

There was a commotion as the doors to sick bay suddenly slid open, and Throwback walked in hurriedly, his arm supporting another mech, with Flatline leading the duo. "Put him over there," the doctor said, with no sense of urgency at all, as he walked over to a cabinet.

"I said watch it!"

"You know, Dozer" said Throwback calmly, as he helped the newcomer sit on the berth, "This would be a whole lot easier if you didn't yell so much."

"It'll be a whole lot easier if you just shove that remark up your ass," growled the new mech as he settled down, the strangely modified Autobot logo on his shoulder catching the light. He was taller than Throwback, a little slimmer as well, with long legs. He was painted entirely in an olive green military camo, with sections of silvery chrome on his chest, thighs, arms and helm. His grey faceplate was chiseled, with small nicks and scratches, and three blade like fins, sticking vertically upwards, ran from the back of his helm to the forehead. His optics, surprisingly, shone a bright red.

"Dammit, I let my friggin' guard down!" swore Dozer, "If I hadn't, then that stupid 'Secticon wouldn't have fragged my goddamn leg! Fuckin' A!"

Said leg did, indeed, look bad. A large gash ran from the ankle joint to the kneecap, exposing the delicate components and inner framework within. Luminescent energon and ambulatory lubricant gushed out in thin rivulets and dripped to the floor.

Throwback whistled. "That does look bad," he said, sympathetically, "Let me guess...Scarab?"

"Mantis."

"Ouch."

"Yeah..."

"Wow...Somebody got ambushed," piped Zed.

Dozer looked up, and his gaze fell on Jack. He gulped, as the mech's ruby optics narrowed. "Hey, Zed...Is this the guy you were talking about?"

"Yep," grinned Zed, "That's Jacky-boy, right there!"

Dozer hefted his injured leg and gestured to the wound. "Take a gander, _Jacky-boy. _This is all on you."

Jack took a step back. "Uh...?"

"Don't play dumb," Dozer growled, "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be risking our limbs in a Dead Zone. I mean, come on, even a school kid knows Dead Zones are Insecticon territory."

Jack gulped. "Uh...well, I'm sorry-"

Dozer snorted. "'Sorry' he says...Yeah right..."

"Aww, give Jack a break, Dozer," said Throwback, "He needed our help anyway, and besides, he doesn't seem so bad."

"Yeah, tell that to the fucking Mantis," grumbled Dozer, as he lay back on the berth.

Zed threw an arm on Jack's shoulder and steered him away from Dozer. "Aww, let 'im be, Jack, he'll come to his senses..."

"I don't think so," muttered Throwback, as he walked alongside the boys, "I mean, you can never really be so sure with Dozer, what with that temper of his..."

Jack swallowed; he really wasn't very popular at the moment. Deciding to change the subject, he looked around the sick bay, until something curious caught his eye; a transparent cylindrical vat placed on a low shelf, with numerous pumps and hoses snaking in and out of the assembly. Floating inside the vat, inside a pale transparent liquid were...

Jack craned his neck, squinting, and then sucked in a breath in shock. "There...There are arms inside that thing!" he exclaimed, "Those are severed arms!"

Throwback and Zed stopped in their tracks, and looked up. "Oh, those," said Throwback, "Nah, don't worry, Jack; those aren't severed arms."

Jack swallowed and looked again. Indeed, now that he was having a better look, he realized that they were not disembodied arms at all. In fact, they looked more like artificial limbs of some sort. "What _are_ they, then?" he asked, shakily.

"Synthetic vat-grown muscle fibers and artificial nerves," deadpanned Flatline, as he passed by. "They are the Commander's personal supply. Please do not touch."

"The Commander lost th' right arm in a brawl," explained Zed, "They replaced it with a prosthetic, but it needs a supply o' muscle fibers. Y'know, fer repairs an' shit."

Jack frowned. Interesting...So this 'Commander' was a human, judging by the size of those arms...Strange; he'd always assumed this mysterious leader was a cybertronian...

"Is this the boy?"

The three of them turned in unison as yet another mech limped into Sick Bay, this time supported by a MODE.

The MODE caught Jack's attention first; he'd thought it was Boris again, but then he noticed that this MODE was a different model. It was much less bulkier and more aerodynamic, and it was painted in a light aircraft grey color with dabs of white in several places. The head was different as well; while the head on Boris' model was reminiscent of a helmeted soldier, this was more angular and smooth, with the modified Autobot logo printed on the front in white, and a green visor. Sticking up from the mecha's head was a long antenna whose function Jack could not discern.

"Throwback, I won't ask again," the mech said, blue optics narrowing, "Is this the boy?"

"That's him, Storm," said Throwback, warily.

And he had good reason to be wary; the injured mech the MODE gingerly supported didn't look very pleased. In fact, he looked majorly ticked off. He was a seeker; tall, slim, large wings flaring out from his shoulders, and he was painted mostly dark blue and white with bright daubs of orange in places. "Jack, I presume," said the seeker, as the MODE helped him onto the nearest berth. Like Throttle, he had an English accent, his voice clipped and curt. His silver faceplate was narrow, with a slightly protruding chin.

"Jackson Darby, actually," replied Jack. "But...you can still call me Jack."

"I am Stormfront, Second in Command of this unit. You are to remain in Sick Bay until my say-so."

Jack blinked. "Wha-?"

"I have just gotten off communications with my commanding officer," Stormfront carried on, as if he hadn't heard Jack at all; he seemed more concerned with the sizable wound in his side. "Once my wounds have been tended to, and I have been given clearance, I will escort you to the Commander personally."

Jack was about to protest, but then Flatline turned up to tend to Stormfront's wounds, diverting the seeker's attention. "He's...not very pleased with me...is he?" mumbled Jack.

The MODE turned its head to Jack. "Well, you did force him to fly into enemy territory," said the mecha's pilot, voice crackling through external speakers. "So yes, he is quite upset." The MODE's cockpit suddenly opened with a loud clunk, revealing the pilot.

He was another boy, looking to be the same age as Zed, with dark skin and a neatly combed mop of black hair. His face was long and thin, and a pair of glasses were perched on his nose.

Zed smiled. "Jacky-boy, meet Mordor."

Jack's brow crinkled. "Mordor-?"

"It's not Mordor," sighed the MODE's pilot; apparently this happened a lot. "Jack, ignore him. My name is Mordecai."

"Uh...Hello," greeted Jack, as he awkwardly waved. "Look, I'm really sorry for-"

Mordecai waved his hand, the MODE following suit thanks to the controls. "No need to apologize, I completely understand," he said, "If I were you, I'd probably do the same."

Jack felt a twinge of relief. At least there were a select few here who _weren't_ upset because of him.

A heavy footstep startled him; it wasn't a violent one per se, but it was powerful enough to make him think of Bulkhead or Optimus' heavy treads. Warily, he looked to the doorway. The doors hissed open, allowing Throttle entrance. She was carrying a small crate under her arm, and she was in conversation with another person, her helm turned back and upwards so she could properly look at-

Jack's eyes went wide in shock. Closely following Throttle through the doorway, her pedes making the very ground shake with her every step, was the largest femme Jack had ever laid eyes on...

No, 'large' was an understatement. She was _enormous_; she looked big enough to pick up Arcee and comfortably seat her on her shoulders. The twin cannon barrels that protruded from her back barely touched the top of the doorframe, and she held a pair of huge crates under both her thick arms; Throttle's own small pallet looked laughable compared to the immense load the ginormous femme was carrying.

"But sis, I could have helped!" said the femme. Surprisingly, she sounded very young, a trait that belied her immense size.

"That's true," said Throttle, evenly, "But you know what Stormfront and the Commander said. You're still inexperienced for this sort of thing...Hello, boys!"

"Are those the meds Flatline's been looking for?" asked Mordecai, "Better get them to him; Dozer's looking bad."

"Will do!" chirped Throttle, "Oh, and by the way, Jack, I'd like you to meet my little sister..." She gestured up to the massive femme, making Jack's jaw drop.

"_Little_ sister?" he asked in a weak voice; he was still trying to wrap his head around the notion of an Optimus-sized femme.

"Jack, meet Payload," said Throwback, "Payload, meet Jack."

Jack took an involuntary step back, as the femme's optics focused on him. She set the two crates down to the floor with heavy thuds and knelt down for a closer look.

Payload's vehicle mode was obvious. The caterpillar treads on her shins and shoulders, the enormous cannon barrels, weathered desert camo paintjob; she transformed into a tank, and a very heavy one at that. That, and she was surprisingly good looking for a massive femme; she was bulky, but the armor didn't compromise the natural curvature of her frame all that much. Like her sister, her optics were a brilliant green.

"So is this the guy?" she asked, tiliting her head to one side. "Looks like a toothpick to me..."

"You say that to everyone," mumbled Mordecai. "I'm going to go dock my MODE, I'll be right back." And with a twist of the controls, he was off.

Payload shrugged. "Whatever...Way I see it, Jack could get torn to pieces...I just hope the Commander's merciful; looked real mad when I passed by..."

"Wait," said Throwback, "Are you saying the Commander's back in base? Back in base _and_ pissed?!"

"Yep. Just docked the _Krieger_ at the MODE station and headed straight for the Command Center."

"Oh, boy," groaned Zed, his chirpy attitude gone in an instant.

Jack swallowed. "So the Commander's angry..," he said, "And this is obviously a bad thing, because...?"

"You don't want to face the full force of the Commander's wrath head-on," said Throwback, ruefully. "A lot of Decepticons have been on the receiving end of it, and...well, they never really survived long enough to tell _anyone_..."

A shadow fell over Jack. Startled, he looked up to see Stormfront standing over him. The Seeker's optics were still narrowed as he spoke, "My repairs are done...If there are no other complications, then we shall meet the Commander personally."

Jack swallowed. "No...none at all..."

"Good," said the second in command. He knelt down, his wings hitching upwards, and he proffered his palm.

Jack quickly hopped onto it without hesitation, and the Seeker slowly stood up. With not so much as a glance towards the others, he strode out of sick bay, the doors sliding shut behind them both.

* * *

Jack tried not to feel to uncomfortable, as Stormfront carried the boy down a series of corridors. So far, they had not exchanged a single word between them; Stormfront looked a little too moody and didn't seem like he was interested in much conversation anyway.

Twice, Jack had tried to initiate a dialogue, only to change his mind at the last minute; when a mech like Stormfront looked straight ahead with such an expression of moderate irritation, you tended to forgo any sort of conversation.

In any case, the point was moot; Stormfront had already reached a set of large double doors marked 'Command Center'. Without hesitation, he quickly keyed in an override. The door pad flashed green and the doors swished open smoothly to reveal the room's contents.

The room was large and circular, with walls reinforced by steel-gray industrial plating, and the lighting was provided by the soft glow of fluorescent tubes inset into the domed ceiling at regular intervals. Other than that, it all felt like a rehash of Omega One's interior; gangways, catwalks and platforms filled with consoles and screens wrapped the walls, obviously for human use. Some of these platforms were even suspended high above Stormfront's helm, though what they held, Jack could not say.

Dominating a huge arc of the room was the largest vidscreen Jack had ever seen. It stretched wide, hugging the curve of the command center, and looked to be as big as a cinema screen, if not bigger, easily dwarfing the smaller screens that dotted the chamber. It glowed a bright blue, easily illuminating the chamber better than the flourescents above, and it displayed various windows filled with charts and readings.

Stretching right across the room, a few meters away and directly in front of this monstrous screen, was a narrow rectangular platform on which an array of smaller consoles and desktop monitors were stationed.

Their combined glow, coupled with the massive main screen, framed a lone figure standing directly in the center of the platform. Whatever features Jack could make out of the person were obscured by the glare of the screens. That, and they were facing the massive screen, their back to Jack, thus rendering it impossible to make out anything else...

Stormfront halted. "Commander."

"Stormfront..."

The voice was feminine; surprising, because Jack certainly hadn't been expecting the Commander to be a woman. But her voice was rough, almost like she was growling, and there was a deep tone to it. She gestured to a space with a flick of her hand, not bothering to face them. "You have him, don't you? Put him over here..."

Stormfront obliged. His palm lowered to the platform, and Jack tentatively stepped down, his shoes meeting the metal floor.

"Were you injured, Stormfront?" asked the Commander.

"Yes," said the Seeker, "But Flatline gave me adequate treatment; I'll manage."

The Commander simply nodded. Now that Jack was directly behind her, he could make out an unmistakeable smoky scent; the smell of cigarettes. She wore an old-fashioned greatcoat, the sort you'd expect to see officers wearing at around World War Two or something, and her hair was tied back in a loose tail. Judging by the way the coat hung off her body the way it did, he deduced that she was quite thin, albiet somewhat athletic.

There was a slight rustle as the Commander raised a metal flask, the scent of alcohol catching Jack's nose just before she took a long hard swig. As she did so, Jack got a view of her arm, and he felt his stomach turn slightly.

Yes, he knew the Commander had a prosthetic; he just hadn't realized how unnerving it would be. It was somewhat thin, the fingers almost like those of a skeleton, and the whole thing looked like it was made of a hybrid of rubber and grey-ish silver; almost like some horrible travesty of metal and living tissue. It looked so...so antiseptic, unfeeling and clinical, that Jack couldn't help but feel a little put off.

The Commander pulled the flask away, capping it with a single motion. "Now," she said, "As I'm sure you're aware, I'm not very happy right now. In fact, I'm pissed, but I'll try to control myself. The reason? Well, let's see. You contact my recruits, completely by chance, and request for help."

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but the Commander raised her prosthetic arm, silencing him. "Now don't get me wrong. Anyone would ask for help in your situation. The only problem is that you made the call deep in enemy territory, meaning that the signal could have been traced and that our location would have been compromised. That, and you put my soldiers in grave danger, especially both of my best MODE pilots. In addition, two of my men were injured, and had they spent a second longer in the Dead Zone, they would have been fatally wounded.

"Bottom line is, you've gotten two of my soldiers hurt and put two MODE pilots in danger when they should have been in battle practice. I'm not going to blame you for all that. They will. What I am going of blame you for, however, is for being a complete waste of time and resources. In other words, our rescuing you better be worth all the goddamn trouble."

Jack swallowed. The Commander must have sensed his anxiety, because she carried on speaking. "Are we understood? Good. Now, let's start with you. What's your name?"

Jack took a deep breath. "My name's Darby...Jackson Darby...But my friends call me Jack..."

The flask hit the floor with a sharp clang that echoed throughout the Command Center. Even Stormfront was startled; the Seeker drew back sharply, wings twitching, optics wide."Commander?!" he asked, concern evident in his voice, "Are you alright?!"

But the Commander was too preoccupied to listen to him. She stared at Jack, with such a look of incredulity, it was almost frightening. "Is...is that...Is it really...?," she rasped, voice hoarse, "You...You haven't even...What?"

Even Jack was flabbergasted. He stared right back at the Commander with a look of slack-jawed incomprehension. The eyes arrested him first. The left was a familiar light brown eye, almost the color of champagne or honey. But the right was a different story. It was identical to the other, right down to the color but it was lifeless, with a metallic or plastic sheen to it; obviously another prosthetic. The face was still familiar, with the same unmistakeable skin tone, but it was now narrower, the chin much more pointed. The most drastic difference was the hair; it was a solid sheet of black.

"Dear God...," whispered Jack, eyes wide in abject shock, "No, this...My God...Miko...Is it really you?..."


End file.
